In life, as in dancing, timing is everything

L.A. Affairs

Anthony Russo / For the Times

Anthony Russo / For the Times

Amy Shouse

I attended my husband's first wedding fresh off a tumultuous breakup. It was my first big outing after a two-month grieving period. I was battle-worn and still reeling from heartache, but since he was such a dear friend, I decided it would be good to stretch my bruised socializing muscles.

"His name is Eric," I said. "We've worked together for years, and he's the greatest guy. I wish I could find someone like him. He's one of the nicest people I've ever known."

I didn't mean it in a stalker-predatory kind of way. Over the many years I'd known Eric, I'd never looked at him in a romantic light. We'd both been with other people, and our bond was one of friendship. He'd had his ups and downs with the woman he was about to marry, and I'd had my roller-coaster ride over a period of years as well.

Heading out to the wedding, I felt nervous. Even though I'd know most of the people there and so many of them were close friends and co-workers, I still felt like a fish out of water.

After a long, winding car ride, I arrived at the remote lakeside setting for the festivities with only one thought on my mind: I had to find a restroom. I quickly parked my car and, just as I was about to query one of the valets, a friendly looking man came up and asked if he could help me with anything.

"You look lost," he said as he shook my hand and introduced himself as Eric's father.

After explaining my predicament, he offered to let me use the cabin he and Eric's mother were staying in. I remember thinking how kind he was, and as he escorted me through the gorgeous, tree-filled grounds, I started to feel calmer.

Little did I know that the next time I would see him would be roughly five years later when I joined Eric and his entire family on a trip to Mexico.

For this night, though, he remained simply Eric's nice dad. And Eric remained simply Eric, my good and happy friend, getting married. His brothers and sisters-in-law all rallied around him and his new wife, talking about how proud they were of them.

I left that evening feeling uplifted and hopeful that I would eventually find a mate with whom I could settle down.

Eric and I continued to work together. On the outside he seemed happily married, but several years into it things began to unravel, and he separated from his wife. I continued dating various guys — none of them ending up clicking into long-term seriousness, none having that extra-nice gene I was looking for.

After the end of one particular relationship with a guy I believed to be a potential keeper, I decided to let go of all my expectations and hopes about finding a partner and just focus on living my own life, free from the inner demon that gnawed at my heart, telling me I had to find someone. The period that followed this decision was the most satisfying of my life as a single woman. For the first time, I wasn't panicked that I was alone.

It was right around this time that Eric and another co-worker invited me out for drinks after work. I was tired and had made a plan in my head to go home and start my weekend by going to bed early, but something in me said yes. What did I have to lose? It was just friends, I didn't have to impress anyone and it was only 5 p.m. I'd have a drink or two and be home by 9:30 at the latest.

Seven hours later, after the three of us had had drinks and decided to continue the fun at Harvelle's nightclub on 4th Street in Santa Monica, Eric asked me to dance, and we've been dancing ever since. After 10 years of friendship, we both realized we'd liked each other so much all along, it was easy to fall into a loving relationship once the timing was right.

From this point, we entered Serious Land: road trips to Sequoia National Park, endless dinners accompanied by in-depth conversations — and our first vacation, where I was reunited with his father, along with nine other family members headed to Mexico, where we would spend 10 days together and where Eric and I, after taking the plunge into coupledom, would realize that friendship was the thing that laid the groundwork for our own happy future.

Neither of us had seen it coming, and both of us hope it never ends.

Amy Shouse is a freelance writer living in Santa Monica.

L.A. Affairs chronicles romance and relationships. Past columns and submission guidelines are at latimes.com/laaffairs. If you have comments to share or a story to tell, write us at home@latimes.com.